


Real Stars Are Rare (And So So Cold)

by lotticorn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Dark, Desperation, Feels, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Issues, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Recreational Drug Use, Sad, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stony - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotticorn/pseuds/lotticorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Avengers have disbanded, Tony is on his way home and stops by a run down bar by the roadside hoping to just get drunk by himself and think about his recent failure.<br/>Ultron is defeated, but at what cost? All those people dead and it's all his fault. And the threat from outer space is still looming above their heads. </p><p>Tony just wants to forget everything that's happened, but Steve somehow finds his way into the same bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Stars Are Rare (And So So Cold)

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up at the begining! MAJOR SPOILER ALERT!!!  
> This story is set right after Age of Ultron and will spoil the movie for everyone who hasn't seen it yet!!! 
> 
> Further warning: this story is really dark and depressing, Tony and Steve are pretty broken.  
> Can be read as slash or friendship. 
> 
> I still hope you enjoy it and maybe leave a comment :) What did you think of Age of Ultron?

„I’m going to miss you, Tony“ kept replying in his head, an endless loop of Steve’s parting words to him, and it was driving Tony crazy. Steve was going to miss him. 

Steve who was gonna train the new Avengers, now that Bruce had dropped off the grid, Clint was with his family – what the fuck, by the way? Tony was still not over that shock -, Thor had left for Asgard to get some insight into his vision and Tony had quit. 

That left Steve with Natasha, Falcon, that Wanda kid, Rhodey – again, how the fuck had that happened? – and JARVIS…no, the Vision, not JARVIS, he wasn’t JARVIS, no matter how much he resembled him. JARVIS was dead and the Vision didn’t seem to keen on getting in touch with Tony. Not that he minded, of course. It was just that he was practically his father, having created the AI and put him in the body and everything, but given how well his last creation before that had turned out, he couldn’t even hold a grudge. If he could, he’d probably cease all forms of contact with himself, too. 

He’d just managed to fuck everything up spectacularly once again, hadn’t he? 

The sudden urge to get black out drunk and forget about all that was wrong with him and with the world – and all the wrongdoings he had committed against the world – overcame him and succumbing to it, he pulled into the next best run-down bar slash diner slash motel by the side of the road. 

It was a hot and sunny day, so there were quite a number of bikes parked in front of the ramshackle place. The bright orange sports car stood out like a beacon in the night, its sleek design completely out of place amidst dusty old trucks and well-loved bikes that had more dents and scratches than varnish left on them. 

Tony parked his wildly inappropriate car next to a Hummer that had seen its best days twenty years ago and pulled his shades down on his face. He didn’t have any qualms about not being recognized, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe he could just throw money at the people inside and make them leave him alone, that usually worked. 

The stairs creaked as he walked up to the door. When Tony opened it he was hit with the smell of stale beer, male sweat and cigarette smoke. Nice. Slightly below his usual standard but perfect to hide away and wallow in guilt and self-pity by himself. 

Inside there was a dim light, the bright sunrays not reaching through the grime and nicotine streaked windows. Instead, the room was illuminated by a handful naked light bulbs dangling sadly from the ceiling, causing an eerie glow and casting long shadows in the corners. 

Only two tables were occupied, one in the far right corner with a group of men playing cards and another one by a family that very obviously didn’t belong to the usual customers but seemed to be on the road and was just taking a break. The kids appeared fascinated, but the mom kept shooting furtive glances left and right, clearly anxious. The dad, a balding forty-something, looked a little lost.  
The only other customer was an old man with a heavy mustache who was sitting alone at the bar and was discussing something very agitatedly. The fact that there was no one to have a discussion with didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. 

All in all the bar was as sleazy as possible in this part of the States and Tony was glad he’d found it. He dropped down on the bar, keeping a healthy distance from agitated mustache guy, and checked his phone. No new messages. He sighed. What had he been expecting? A call to assemble? After they’d found the scepter, eliminated the current threat – that had been his fault – and most importantly, after he’d made it clear that he’d quit? What reason would Steve have to text him? 

“Can I get you anything?” a slightly hoarse voice asked from behind the bar and Tony put the phone back into the pocket of his jacket. He raised his head and didn’t even try for a grin or a smile; it would come out as a grimace at this point.  
The voice belonged to a waitress, late twenties, who had her curly, dirty blonde hair pulled up in a messed bun and looked too hip and trendy for a run down place like this with her glasses, her lip piercings and the tattoos trailing up her collarbones. 

“You got some scotch, sugarplum?” he asked and tried not to stare. It was none of his business why anyone was working at the bar. 

She just raised an eyebrow that was way too dark to be natural and snorted lightly. “Sure thing, buddy”, she replied and Tony hoped she wouldn’t start a conversation. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation right now. He was in the mood for drinking. 

“Give me the whole bottle.” He muttered and placed several $100 notes on the counter. It was most likely too much money and if she hadn’t recognized him before, hipster waitress would surely know who he was after that stunt. Whatever. The whole world knew his face, what did it matter? 

“Rough day?” she asked instead, curiosity evident on her face. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry. But Damian’s shift starts in two hours and he kicks the rude customers out. Make sure you’re not a rude drunk.” Her dark red lips smiled and Tony tried to return the smile. Then he took the bottle and the glass and poured himself the first one.  
“Thanks, sweetie pie.” 

It sounded sad and lonely and Tony realized that he must be looking sad and lonely, sitting all by himself in a shady roadhouse, drowning his sorrows in way too much cheap scotch. Tony Stark, ladies and gentlemen, the merchant of death, Avenger and mass murderer. 

One glass turned to two turned to three and Tony was feeling a light buzz set in. It wasn’t enough to make him forget or to even so much as lift his spirits and it didn’t make his surroundings more appealing, either. But it was a start and he could work with this and everyone in the bar had been so kind as to fuck off and leave him alone so far, so he wasn’t about to complain. All in all it was all he’d wished for. 

Until he heard the door creak open and someone wearing heavy boots stepped inside. The sound was obscenely loud in the little room and Tony felt a suffocating sensation creep up on him. He slowly, morosely, lifted his gaze from the glass in front of him and turned around reluctantly. As did the rest of the bar. Even mustache guy stopped his heated argument to stare. 

All the staring seemed to be making the blonde man with the broad shoulders and the worn leather jacket uncomfortable in such a cute way that Tony wanted to scream and crawl into the bottle. Of course. Of course Steve had to choose the same fucking motel as him. He couldn’t just have one fucking afternoon to himself to just drink himself to an early grave without anyone witnessing it. Nope, no such luck for Tony Stark. 

Steve stepped into the bar, carefully and hesitantly. His eyes searched the place – always the good soldier boy, a mean voice inside Tony’s head remarked – and finally settled on Tony. The second he recognized him, his whole posture changed and Tony drained his glass. The tension left Steve’s shoulders and his whole body language became much more open. And he was smiling. He was fucking smiling. What the fuck was he smiling about? 

Tony just hoped he wouldn’t make a scene, he was not in the mood for giving autographs. 

Giving in to what seemed to be his fate for the rest of the day, Tony nudged his head at the bar stool next to him and Steve’s face lit up even more. This was gonna get exhausting. 

“Hey boss” Tony muttered, no yet slurring but close, as Steve sat down. 

“Not your boss anymore, remember? You quit, for good this time.” 

A stab went through Tony and he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear from under Steve’s scrutiny and just the world in general.  
Even the friendly smile on Steve’s face couldn’t change that. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead, genuinely curious. He poured himself another drink, mostly to have something to occupy his hands with. 

Next to him, Steve sighed. “I could ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you on your way back to Pepper planning that farm and the simple life you were talking about earlier?” 

Another stab and Tony’s hands were trembling, the amber liquid sloshing around dangerously in the tumbler. Time to pay the piper.  
He carefully lowered the glass onto the stained counter and managed to spill only a bit. His fingers stayed around it, clutching at it as if it was his lifeline. 

“Pepper and I, we’re not…” He cleared his throat and stared back into his drink, “We’re not really…an item any more.” Silence followed and Tony took a mouthful of scotch. 

Then Steve put his arm around Tony’s shoulder and pulled him close. “I’m sorry”, he murmured, sounding honestly distressed, “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us?” 

Tony just shrugged. “I didn’t want any of you to feel responsible, I guess…Pepper doesn’t like Iron Man and she doesn’t like me being Iron Man, so I quit, for her. But when you asked for my help…I just had to help you with that scepter!” 

Steve released him and grabbed his shoulders instead, forcing Tony to look at Steve. He immediately averted his gaze and stared at the men who were still playing cards. The family had left. 

“You could have told us!” Steve’s voice was loud in the small space and Tony hoped that it was still hipster waitress’s shift. He didn’t want to be kicked out by Damian, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough. “Iron Man is a valuable asset, sure, but we could have managed without you! It’s not worth neglecting your relationship for!” 

Tony’s eyes snapped up, meeting Steve’s deep blue ones for the first time that afternoon. His voice sounded small and strained even to his own ears as he answered, “Yes it is, Steve! It absolutely is! It’s, it’s vital, it’s the only thing that matters, nothing’s more important than that scepter!” He was getting more worked up, his words jumbling together. “We need Loki’s scepter to defend ourselves against the army camped on our doorstep! You didn’t see it, Steve, but I did, and we’re so, so unprepared! Getting that scepter means keeping Pepper and everyone else safe and if she breaks up with me because of that, sure, that’s sad, but if she’s still safe in the end and we can win against the aliens then I honestly don’t care that much!”

To his surprise, Steve’s grip on his shoulders tightened and he clenched his jaw. “Don’t say that!” he hissed, low and dangerous, and Tony could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Drive home to Pepper, explain the situation to her, apologize and promise that Iron Man is done!” 

“Cap, you’re hurting me”, Tony ground out just as he thought his shoulder blades were close to shattering. Steve let go of him at once, as if he’d been burned and oddly enough Tony missed the sensation. He truly deserved to get completely beat up by Captain America and so much more after Ultron. 

“Sorry”, Steve muttered and there was a tremble in his voice and he sounded so lost that Tony slid his glass over to him. At Steve’s blank look he just shrugged.  
“You came into a bar knowing that you couldn’t get drunk. Might as well try. Or, y’know, pretend to, whatever works for you, buttercup.” 

Steve blinked before picking up the glass and draining it. He screwed up his face in obvious disgust and Tony nodded. “Better?” 

“Not really…” 

“Yeah, same. Hey, Steve, are you okay?” Tony asked softly and pried the glass from Steve’s fingers before he could break it. “You didn’t tell us about your dream. D’you wanna talk about it?” 

A shadow passed over Steve’s face and for a moment Tony was afraid that he’d have to be the one to do some hugging, but then Steve blinked a couple times, rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair and the shadow was gone. Left behind was a completely drained Steve. Tony had to do a double take. Had Steve looked that fucking tired and done before? There were dark smudges under his red-rimmed eyes and his skin had an unhealthy grey tint to it. The tension had returned to his body and he was sitting ramrod straight, jaw clenched, taking shaking breaths, lower lip trembling. Oh fuck.  
“Steve?” Tony asked again, quietly, and now there were tears in Steve’s eyes. Tony’s heartbeat picked up speed and he had a feeling he was going to regret his question. 

“I saw her”, Steve whispered and took a shuddering breath. “Peggy. She wanted to dance with me.” He hastily wiped the tears that were threatening to fall away with the back of his hand and another stab went through Tony’s body. He felt cold and a strange sense of detachment set in. Steve was falling apart, finally and with good reason, and Tony couldn’t do a thing.  
It was just like that fucked up dream.  
Why did he always have to be so powerless? 

So he poured himself another drink and tried not to focus on his shaking hands but instead on the grain in the woodwork of the counter in front of him. It wasn’t fascinating in the least and Steve was most likely expecting some kind of reaction. So Tony did the only thing he knew, the only thing he’d been doing constantly lately. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Steve wiped at his eyes again and swallowed. “It’s not your fault, Tony, and it’s not Wanda’s either. It was HYDRA. It’s always fucking HYDRA…” There was a bitterness in his voice that was rare for Steve but Tony got it. HYDRA had taken everything from Steve - his best friend, his girlfriend and ultimately everyone and everything he knew. Only a few months ago they had taken SHIELD and Steve had learned that everything he had been working for in the 21st century had been tainted by HYDRA as well. 

Tony took the last sip of his drink. The bar was becoming slightly fuzzy at the edges and he was having trouble focusing his gaze, not that he really wanted to look at anything. The only one who would text him was sitting right next to him but he didn’t feel like having eye contact with Steve right now. 

“I’m still sorry. I shoulda known…even before, I mean, I hacked SHIELD but I didn’t find out about HYDRA…that shouldn’t ‘ve been possible! I shoulda dug deeper but I didn’t and people got hurt. ‘s always the same. And this time I dug too fucking deep and people died. So many people. I’m so sorry, Steve, but sorry’s not gonna bring them back…” 

Sick of the swaying woodwork in front of him, Tony buried his face in his hands and stopped breathing for a moment. He wanted to disappear. Since turning back the time was out of the question, he simply wanted to stop existing right at that moment. No more people being put in danger because of him, no more assassination attempts and bombings and failed experiments that went haywire and on killing sprees. It sounded almost peaceful and totally worth it, if it hadn’t been for the alien army. If Tony were to…suffer a most unfortunate accident that night he wouldn’t be there when the aliens attacked. And if he wasn’t there he couldn’t help his friends and if he didn’t help them…

Images of the nightmarish vision flooded his head, the dead faces of the Avengers forever burned into his memory, staring at him with accusatory eyes and judging him for his failure. 

“Tony, c’mon, why don’t you take it easy with the scotch?” Steve asked quietly. He didn’t sound his usual quirky self but just a tired shadow. Tony was a disappointment and Steve was fed up with his crap.  
“I know you feel guilty and responsible for what happened and I’m not gonna lie, you played a huge part in it. I know you meant well, Tony, but do you know the opposite of good? It’s not evil, it’s good intention. Your intentions are good and understandable, but your actions…Nevertheless, we fixed it and it wasn’t entirely your fault to begin with, I can see that now. So stop beating yourself up about it, it’s done.”

“Doesn’t make it any better. Doesn’t bring back all these people and the Maximoff kid and Peggy and Pepper.” Now that his tongue was loosened, the pent-up desperation poured in waves out of Tony. The gates had been opened and now nothing could stop the flood. “It all sucks. Everything’s fucked up and nothing’s fun anymore and now even JARVIS is gone, but there’s fucking aliens waiting for the right moment to invade us, again, and I’m terrified, I’m just so fucking terrified all of the time and I’m sick of it, I don’t wanna be scared anymore…” And he was scared, terrified. Even talking about the wormhole made his heart clench and his palms go slick with sweat. 

At some point the light bulbs’ glow had turned harsh and cold, hurting his eyes even behind the shades. He clenched them shut.  
Somewhere to his right Mustache guy shouted “Ya bastard!”, probably at himself. 

“’n because of that I made Ultron, to protect you…protect everyone. Didn’t work out, though, and now I’m just…kinda lost” 

Not even the warmth of Steve’s hand on his arm could get Tony to look up from his drink, but he leaned into the contact, bathing in Steve’s affection, drinking it up while he still got some. 

“That’s really…noble of you, Tony, but we can protect ourselves. If we fight together, we’ll be alright.” 

Despite the soothing tone of Steve’s voice, Tony felt sick. He took another sip of the scotch in front of him and shook his head in a frantic motion, so much that it was giving him nausea. Or maybe that was just the scotch.  
“But you won’t, Steve, that’s the point! I-I saw it…” He trailed off as he realized what he was about to reveal. Unfortunately, Steve had caught up. He increased the pressure on Tony’s arm until Tony was certain he would leave a bruise, and asked, “Saw what? In your vision? What did you see?” 

The pain was grounding him, in a weird way, and the world even stopped swaying for a moment. Tony used the strangeness of the situation to lean back against Steve’s broad chest, for support in case it would start spinning again and for body heat. The strong, regular beat of Steve’s heart calmed him somewhat and, drumming his fingers against the glass, he started talking. 

“I saw you, all of you. We were on some kinda battlefield, probably alien, and you were all…” He swallowed and took a shuddering breath, “dead. All of you.” He felt as if his chest was being crushed, his heart beating frantically to get away from the danger.  
“And it was my fault. You said so.” The image of Steve, trying to sit up, spluttering blood and accusing him hadn’t left Tony’s mind for even a second. “You…you weren’t dead yet and you said I could have saved you and then you…” His throat constricted and he had to concentrate on his breathing and Steve’s heartbeat. “You died and then you were all dead and there was a wormhole and it opened and the army came through and I couldn’t do a thing and you were all dead and it was my fault and _I wasn’t dead_.” The last words came out in a strangled whisper and Tony heard Steve inhale sharply. 

“What are you saying here, Tony?” he asked, his voice low, and gripped Tony by the shoulders and turned him so that he was facing Steve. There were hard lines of worry on his face and his mouth was set in a grim way. His eyes were narrowed and Tony couldn’t help but squirm under the scrutiny. 

“You of all people know what I’m saying…” he muttered. “Hell, even Fury knew. I guess I’m just that easy to read.” He was tired now, and sad, and the bottle was nearly empty and Steve was there.  
“What are you doing here, Steve?” he murmured again and let his head fall forward onto Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve flinched momentarily at the contact but didn’t brush him off. Instead he went for a light tone. “I told you I didn’t have plans tonight. And I said I was gonna miss you. I just…wanted to at least pretend to get drunk and think about Peggy. But I also didn’t really wanna be alone. And then I saw your car outside and I didn’t think twice about stopping here. So whatever you’re planning on doing? Please…just don’t. I don’t wanna lose you, too.” He wrapped his arms around Tony’s slender form and pulled him closer. Tony hugged him back, trying to desperately ban the thought that he didn’t deserve this. It had been so long that he had physical contact outside a fight. 

“I saw you die!” Tony hissed, his fingers clawing into Steve’s leather jacket. “You died in my arms and I couldn’t do a thing…don’t ever die on me, Steve” He pulled back and settled down on his bar stool again ignoring Steve’s concerned look. 

The sun had set and the bar was only illuminated by the naked light bulbs now giving the place an even cheaper look. Mustache guy had left and the men playing cards had been replaced by a group of barely legal looking college kids who were talking animatedly and minding their own business. They didn’t spare Tony and Steve so much as a glance. 

“So many people have died already. I don’t wanna see more death. I just…wanna go home and get a good night’s sleep, invent some crap for Stark Industries and not worry about everyone for a change. But I can’t and that…I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. My plan to save everyone failed, spectacularly. I don’t know what to do, Steve.” 

Tony poured the last bit of scotch into the glass. He was cold and at the end of his rope and for once he wanted to just stop thinking. 

“You can always come back.” Steve said softly as he wrapped his hand around the glass and took it from Tony. “Come back with me. The base is new and the team is different, but I’m sure we can make it a home. You gave us a home in New York. Let me give you a home here.” He smiled hesitantly and drained the glass while Tony stared at the counter. The intricate lines in the woodwork went on into nothingness and turned blurry. Everything was turning blurry. 

“You fellas need anything else?” a deep, rough voice asked them from behind the bar, but Tony couldn’t be bothered to look up. He didn’t feel like doing anything. He couldn’t do anything. 

“No, thank you, we’re just about to leave.” Steve replied, polite as always. 

Tony raised his head a fraction to shoot a furtive glance at Steve. “We’re leaving?” 

“We are. I’m taking your car, if you don’t mind. I don’t want you driving anywhere like this.” 

Shame, Tony thought, that had been his initial plan. 

He slid off the bar stool unsteadily and the room tilted. It took only a second to regain his composure and he wasn’t even swaying on his feet. What had he been trying to accomplish here again? 

Steve put an arm around his shoulder and navigated him through the small, cramped room towards the door and Tony was thankful. The harsh light was giving him a headache. 

“Do you care about me?” he asked quietly and Steve stopped dead in his tracks. Then he opened the door and pulled Tony outside with him. The fresh breeze hit him pleasantly, unexpectedly and Tony blinked. There were stars in the sky, real stars, the kind he never saw in the city and he shuddered. There was nothing beautiful about the endless vastness of space. 

“Of course I care about you, Tony. You’re an amazing person and you mean a lot to me.” Steve’s eyes were round and earnest as he steered Tony down the creaking stairs and over the dusty ground towards his bright orange car that somehow still managed to stand out. He opened the door to the passenger seat and Tony crawled into the car.  
Steve followed suit.  
“Seatbelt.” He commanded before starting the car and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“I care about you, and because I do, I’m taking you home with me. In fact, after everything that happened with Ultron, I think you need to…pay reparations.” 

Tony stared at Steve who was resolutely looking at the empty street and his heartbeat quickened. 

“Yeah. As leader of the Avengers and your boss I don’t accept your resignation. You are to stay part of the Avengers until the damage done by Ultron is reversed.” 

The car was silent, its motor making only the slightest purring noise, and Tony heard nothing but his own heartbeat. Slowly, uncertainly, he turned his head towards Steve who looked tense and murmured, “Thank you.” 

Steve nodded tightly, a tired smile on his face. “It’s the least I can do. Like this, I can make sure you don’t end up dead and you can keep an eye on me so that I don’t die on you.” 

“That’s really fucking terrible reasoning, Captain.” Tony murmured with a half-smile of his own. 

“Language!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> The movie left me with a bad feeling (although if was amazing of course) and I had to channel that feeling into sad Steve/Tony fan fiction. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
